Darkness becomes her //JackxElsa

Nine

Jerk

"THEY'RE ALREADY LOOKING FOR YOU, YOU KNOW."

A lump rose in my throat, and I immediately thought of the blade-wielding maniac. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard the skin split, releasing warm, iron-rich blood onto my tongue.

"Who's looking for me?"

"The Novem."

"Yeah," I said, putting two and two together, "they already tried to kill me once. I won't let them get that close a second time."

His brows drew together. "The Novem doesn't want to kill you."

Vennolope came around me and jumped onto the long table against the wall, sitting on it and swinging her feet. "He's right, you know."

I shook my head, not understanding. "How would you know?"

"Cause Jack's my brother, and he knows everything that happens in New 2. It's his job to know." I cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to at least agree, but he stayed silent. "Jack works for the Novem. They pay him to run messages, get info, that sort of thing." Vennolope twisted her cabbie hat backward. "So who's really after you, Elsa? Does it have anything to do with that bloody sword in your backpack?"

I let my eyelids close slowly and then counted to five. I had killed a man. Seen him disappear. There was tiny Goth girl with fangs. And the Novem might or might not be after me. I was guessing "might," no matter what Vennolope said.

How the hell did I get into this mess? No, this wasn't my mess, this was my mother's. And I wasn't so sure I wanted to know the truth anymore. I pulled my cell phone from the holder on my waist. Eugene would come get me. He'd be mad as hell, but he'd come.

"Cell phones don't work in New 2," Aster said from behind me. I glanced at the display. No signal. "Fine. Is there a phone or a pay phone somewhere I can use?"

Newbies," a boy around Vennolope's age muttered, sitting on one of the steps to peel his orange. He was so odd-looking that he distracted me for a second. Light brown skin. Even his eyebrows were brown.

"Unless you got money or connections, no phones, no Internet. Nothing but running water, electricity, and mail runners," Aster said. "Welcome to New 2."

"Elsa was born at Charity Hospital. She wants to find her records. You can help her with that, can't you, Jack?" Vennolope asked her brother.

Jack picked his backpack up, avoiding my eyes. "No. She should go back home." He walked up the stairs.

Vennolope sputtered, and no one else said a word. The only sound was Jack's unhurried footsteps on the stairs. I glanced from the front door to the stairs and then let out a groan, not believing I was about to run after Mr. Warm & Welcoming.

I jogged up the steps, catching up to Jack on the landing. "Hey, hold on a sec." He stopped, turning partway. "Look, if you know something. . . . why these people are after me. . ."

At five-four, I was that much shorter than Jack, but I felt smaller under his storm-cloud gaze. The guy gave nothing away. He tossed a quick glance to the others, who had gathered halfway up the stairs. His jaw clenched and his eyes went hard. He bent forward and kept his voice. "The Novem got a call a few hours ago with your description and name. . . the word went out to all the runners and people who work for the Novem-which is basically everyone in this city-to look for you."

Dr. Hamada. She must've called. But why? "And you work for them."

"They just want to see you. No one said anything about hurting you, so I don't know shit about that whole sword thing Vennolope is talking about. And yeah, I work for them. Doesn't mean I always listen."

He marched down the hall and disappeared into a room at the end.

A wave of exhaustion settled over me. My shoulders slumped. I feel the other's eyes on me from below, and more than anything I just wanted to be left alone so I could regroup and think straight, to digest everything that had happened so far. My hasty decision or desire-whatever you wanted to call it-to bolt wouldn't do me any good. It was dark. I needed a place to stay. I'd already paid. And, I sighed, I guess this was it.

I went back into the bedroom, snagged the box, and sat on the rug in front of the fireplace. But the shuffle of footsteps in the hall made it clear I wouldn't be getting privacy anytime soon.

Vennolope, the odd-looking man, and tiny fang girl-who was now wearing the gold Mardi Gras mask-filed into the room. They sat on the rug, making a circle. The boy leaned toward the fireplace and snapped his fingers over the wood. It burst into flames.

He held his hands over the fire, warming them before turning back to the others. "No big deal. Just a trick," he said at my open mouth. "Whats in the box?"

Yeah, just a freaking trick. It easier to believe that than the alternative. "Stuff about my mom."

A drum echoed from somewhere down the hall. Then another and another, until a rhythm took hold. The walls and the floor vibrated. The tempo picked up, fast, furious, and seriously good, seeping into my skin and bones, finding its way to my heart and beating time.

'That's Jack," Vennolope said. "He plays when he's in a mood."

I didn't have to ask what that meant. I knew moods as well as the next person. In background, very faintly, I heard music and vocals, and realized that he must be playing in time to the radio or a CD. Whatever it was, it was something you dance to, or lie down on the floor, close your eyes, and weep to.

As the flames in the fireplace grew, shadows danced on the walls and over the skull, which seemed to grin at me as though it knew something I didn't. Firelight glinted off the colorful beads and the black satin of the top hat. It needs a name, I thought, wondering which was creepier, the skull or the little girl who stared at me through the gold mask with those luminous black eyes.

"This is Wilbur," Vennolope said, motioning to the boy. "And that's is Coraline. She doesn't talk much."

Coraline still cradled her orange in both hands, occasionally bringing it up to her tiny nose to smell it, but her round eyes were fixed on me. She looked like some strange Mardi Gras Goth doll. And for some reason, I found myself warming to the odd little girl. She couldn't have been more than ten years old.

"I think she likes your tattoo," Wilbur said, tapping his fingers on his khakis. "Are you a doue' too?"

"A what?"

To be continued

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Sorry the chapter is so short I promise the next will be way longer. I could've done more but my cramps are so bad. If you don't know what that is, ask your mom, she'll tell you. We got ourselves a bad boy Jack, Hallelujah! Hope you enjoyed if not I don't care. See you in the next chap.